


Instinct

by Talinor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, First Meetings, M/M, Werewolf Eodwulf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26644912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: Still, a prayer to Melora is running through his mind as he steels himself and takes another step. The wolf naturally starts growling again, and Caduceus takes a risk. They’re still a little bit away, but he’s always had long arms. Just long enough to reach out and quickly bap the wolf on the nose. Not enough to hurt, but as a quick but jarring sensation. It works with the rowdy dogs at the vet clinic he volunteers at.And it works now. The growling quickly gives way to bewilderment.“Stop that,” Caduceus admonishes him. His voice isn’t loud, but it has a firmer edge to it now. More no-nonsense. “You’re hurting, and I’m going to help you. But I can’t do that if you won’t let me.” He meets the wolf’s eyes as he stands just a bit taller, towering over the creature. It’s a challenge and a gamble, but he figures it’s safer and easier to intimidate an injured animal than a healthy one. Worst case scenario, the broom’s close enough to grab. Hopefully he won’t need it. “Will you let me?”
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Eodwulf
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> this fic's file name is 'hehe werewulf'  
> disclaimer that I know Nothing about how to deal with actual wolves, I should have done research but did I?? no, fic brain went brrrrrr so sorry caduceus is probably dumb  
> it's 4:30 am and i'm running on fumes just. Take it  
> enjoy!

It’s a quiet night. The moon casts it’s full gaze upon the earth below, and dark clouds hover over the nearby mountains as an unspoken threat. A heavy storm is coming.

But it’s not here yet, so Caduceus doesn’t worry about it much. The doors and windows are closed and shut tight (he laments missing out on the pre-rain smell, anticipation on the wind), Jester ‘reinforced’ weaker spots in the roof (with duct tape) before going to bed, and buckets were set up underneath just in case. Everyone else is either asleep or silent in their rooms, as they should at midnight, but he is not for three reasons.

One, he couldn’t sleep. Tried for what felt like hours, to no avail. His body brimmed with more energy than it had during the day. Made him want to go on a walk or something. But despite the muted weariness seeping into him, he isn’t that bothered by it.

Because two, he _loves_ the night. Morning has its obvious beauty, but there’s _something_ about being up later that compares to it in his mind. Maybe it’s the rare and utter peace and quiet (he adored his friends to no end, but sometimes they could be… a bit much), or the unabashed sounds of nature (no matter where he goes, it sounds like a cricket’s nearby, one he can never find). Maybe it was a combination of the two.

Or maybe it was because tea somehow tasted _better_ around this time. That was reason number three. He hadn’t felt like making his own from the garden tonight, but store-bought chamomile was fine. Even if it left behind a slightly bitter aftertaste.

He settled down on their rickety well-loved couch carefully, knowing its unpleasant creaks could easily echo throughout the apartment’s halls. Given how much this couch had to take near-daily, it was a surprise it still held together so well. The end table was newer, a gift from Jester’s mother. He set his teacup on it and got himself into a comfortable position. The couch wasn’t quite big enough for him to stretch out completely on it, but he managed.

Right as he was in the zone, ready to read a nearby book, he heard a loud crash outside. It wasn’t lightning, and it didn’t rumble nearly enough for it to be thunder. Thankfully, it didn’t sound like someone breaking in either. Which left only one option in his mind: raccoons. They didn’t show up often, but occasionally some would try to rummage near their trashcans.

Personally, he didn’t mind them. Life needed things to live. They needed to find food. But cleaning up after them was never pleasant, and he’s not sure how safe their leftovers would be for the little guys to eat.

So he had two options: either go deal with them himself, or do nothing and risk maybe getting an irate glance from one of his awake housemates going to deal with it. And maybe potentially poisoning the poor things. An uneasy feeling settles in his chest at the thought, and he sighs. He takes another sip of his tea as he makes his choice.

Though he’s in a hurry, he still carefully gets up from the couch to avoid more commotion. There’s a broom by the back door purely for this purpose, because (in Beau’s words) ‘they need to know you’re not fuckin’ around.’ He grabs it as he fiddles with the lock. He’s not planning to actually hit them with it of course, just intimidate them a bit. It also helps with the little trash scraps they tended to spread as they scavenged.

He takes a moment to enjoy the rush of cool, pre-rain air that washes over him as he opens the door. It’s refreshing, but he doesn’t take much time to dwell on it. He has a job to do.

Gripping the broom in both hands, he moves forward. The concrete is cool under his feet. The cans are close by, and sure enough, one is knocked over. It spews out a few crinkled wrappers and worthless papers. But he doesn’t hear any raccoons, or see any tiny furry bodies amid the scene of the crime.

Well, that’s _kind of_ a lie.

He nearly misses one furry body, but it isn’t tiny, and it isn’t looking to the trash for its next meal. It’s a wolf with thick fur blacker than night, and bigger than any he’s ever seen. Its eyes are trained on him, body curled in a defensive stance. It’s body is rigid and unmoving, so he almost doesn’t notice the bloody back leg. Almost. The whirling wind carries a metallic scent, verifying it’s not just the low light playing tricks on him.

His grip on the broom slacks. Despite the fact that he’d never seen a wolf in the area before (especially one big enough to reach his torso on all four legs), he can’t help but feel sorry for the poor creature. It was injured and probably just trying to find shelter. Against trivial things like ‘common sense’ and ‘survival instincts’, he takes a slow step toward the wolf. Then another, moving one hand to reach towards the wolf. Flat, not ready to grab anything. Trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

The next step is when the wolf starts to growl, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl. Its eyes are trained on him, and he can see an intelligence to how the wolf observes his movements. Maybe it’ll understand him. It’s worth a shot, at least.

“Easy,” he says softly, taking another step. Slower this time. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The snarling lessens ever so slightly, but then the wolf notices the ‘weapon’ in his hand. It starts to move back, a noticeable limp in its injured leg. Not the worst wound he’s seen on a human or animal, but it’s certainly not something that can be walked off, either. So he takes a chance and cautiously sets the broom against the wall. Not out of reach, but not in his hands either.

“There. Is that better?” He asks, like he’ll get an answer. The fact that the wolf stops moving away is answer enough. “Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains as he moves closer. Almost close enough to touch. “I just want—”

Then the wolf snaps at him. The bite doesn’t connect, but the message behind it is clear. Despite everything, he’s still wary. He’s still a dangerous animal, one that can’t just be convinced to get help from a soft-spoken stranger. Understandable, Caduceus supposes. But he’s not going to give up that easily.

It’s time for plan B: assert dominance. Show the wolf you’re the ‘alpha’ of the situation, without looking like a threat. Not the easiest or smartest plan, but any others he can come up with require other people. He doesn’t want to go wake up one of his friends and risk this poor wolf running off to potentially die. He’s in this deep, might as well plunge deeper.

Still, a prayer to Melora is running through his mind as he steels himself and takes another step. The wolf naturally starts growling again, and Caduceus takes a risk. They’re still a little bit away, but he’s always had long arms. Just long enough to reach out and quickly bap the wolf on the nose. Not enough to hurt, but as a quick but jarring sensation. It works with the rowdy dogs at the vet clinic he volunteers at.

And it works now. The growling quickly gives way to bewilderment.

“Stop that,” Caduceus admonishes him. His voice isn’t loud, but it has a firmer edge to it now. More no-nonsense. “You’re hurting, and I’m going to help you. But I can’t _do that_ if you won’t _let me_.” He meets the wolf’s eyes as he stands just a bit taller, towering over the creature. It’s a challenge and a gamble, but he figures it’s safer and easier to intimidate an injured animal than a healthy one. Worst case scenario, the broom’s close enough to grab. Hopefully he won’t need it. “Will you let me?”

They stare each other down for what feels like _hours_ , but was likely less than 10 seconds. The wolf doesn’t snarl, but he also doesn’t move. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Maybe weighing his options, Caduceus muses.

Finally, the wolf relents. He does not look away, but his tense coiled body loosens a bit. The wolf steps forward, close enough for Cad to touch. Watching him, probably seeing what he’ll do next.

He tries to get a better look at the wound without bending down, to little avail. The light’s too dim to make out much, and he’s not gonna risk getting his throat closer to those sharp teeth. So he gestures to the door, keeping eye contact. “In.” It’s not a gentle suggestion, but a command.

One the wolf understands, and after a moment, obeys. As he follows close behind, Caduceus weighs his options. The vet clinic is definitely closed by now, and who _knows_ what a hassle it would be to get this wild animal into his car if it was still open.

But there is a _wild animal_ in his _house._ He can’t just do _nothing._ Out of all his friends, he’s the only one with a shred of veterinary experience, so he can’t ask for help that wouldn’t potentially make things worse. He sighs as he shuts the door.

_Oh Melora, what have I gotten myself into?_

The next few hours pass painfully slowly. He carries the wolf to his room (no easy task for his scraggly arms) to rest him upon a makeshift ‘bed’ of old blankets. The wolf thankfully doesn’t resist or hinder his observations, save for the occasional snarl.

_“Yeah, yeah,” Caduceus would say with rolling eyes. “You’re big and scary, I get it. Now hold still.”_

There wasn’t much he could do, but it took time to scrounge together the supplies he needed for the little he could manage. They weren’t really an organized bunch. And tended to get minorly injured often, so he had to collect a couple nearly-finished rolls of gauze. Might as well finish them off. The makeshift splint wasn’t too difficult, but he spent _quite_ some time researching if any medicine they had could potentially help ease the pain for the night. It wouldn’t be much, but it’d help for the vet visit he planned for the morning. He read and read until sleep clawed at his eyes and dragged on his limbs.

So, after collecting the few sparse things that would help and giving them to the wolf, he patted the (surprisingly soft) fur and closed his laptop. “You got me on short notice,” he said with a bone-tired smile. “But I hope it helps, big guy. See you in the morning.”

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, but he could still feel the wolf’s eyes on him. Probably not the best idea to fall asleep in the same room as a wild animal, but it was easy to ignore such concerns among the seductions of sleep and the comforting white noise of rain on his window.

Thankfully, he did wake up the next morning. That’s nice.

What wasn’t nice was that he woke up to the sounds of shifting around, drawers opening and closing. He sighed and sat up. “Jester, I thought I told you to…”

The words died in his throat as he blearily opened his eyes not to a mischievous blue tiefling rearranging his clothes, but a strange man looking like a deer caught in the headlights. A strange man with a broad chest and shoulders, muscular arms, and short dark hair. A strange man with striking amber eyes, strange mazelike tattoos, and (probably most important) Caduceus’ muted green loose yoga pants.

Caduceus blinked in bewilderment. “You’re… not Jester.”

The strange man sighed, tension in his shoulders deflating. “No,” his voice was deep and rumbling, with an accent not unlike Caleb’s. “I’m not.”

He had many questions, but he went with one of the easier ones. “Why are you going through my clothes?” Well, only his pants. He didn’t have a shirt on. It was a decent view, one he’d definitely appreciate more in better circumstances.

“That’s… complicated,” the man told him. “I can’t say, but… I _need_ them.”

Caduceus’ brows furrowed, and he looked toward the pile of blankets. It was still here, but it was mysteriously empty. The black-furred wolf was gone. And a strange black haired man was now in his room. A man with the same cautious gaze he was the recipient of for most of last night.

The dots were highly unlikely, but he connected them nonetheless.

His brows raised in slight surprise. “…Ah,” he said, his sleep-lagged brain still trying to catch up to the absolutely _wild_ situation he found himself in. “The bigger shirts are in,” he pointed it out. “that drawer. What’s your name?”

The man looked away to open the drawer and check his options. “Wulf.” Is his only response as he picks a plain dark gray tee.

He almost wants to snort at the name. But he doesn’t. “That’s nice,” he says softly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Mine is Caduceus. Do you have a place to stay, Wulf, or do you just… travel around?”

“I’ll be fine,” Wulf says curtly, slightly muffled by the shirt moving over his head. “Don’t worry about me.” Even when his face is free, he doesn’t meet Caduceus’ eyes. He heads for the door, trying to hide the slight limp.

“No promises. One more thing?”

Surprisingly enough, Wulf stops. Looks at him expectantly with his hand on the doorknob.

Cad gives him a knowing smile. “Thank you.”

He feigns ignorance. “For what?”

“For not attacking me last night,” he explains, like it’s the most normal thing ever. Like any of this is _normal._ “For letting me help you, instead of running.”

Wulf stares at him for a moment, dumbstruck and silent.

He finishes off with, “Go see a doctor, okay? I did what I could, but you should still probably go to a professional.”

Still in shock (probably unsure what to say), Wulf only nods and opens the door. As he leaves, he mumbles something along the lines of _‘should be the one thanking you.’_

The smile has not left Caduceus’ face, and it doesn’t as he mulls over the… interesting memories and possible implications. Many things are uncertain, but there’s one thing he’s strangely certain of: this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Wulf. He couldn’t say how he knew for certain.

He simply called it instinct.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment i crave Validation  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish


End file.
